


On top of the corpse of culture

by HolyEmpress



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, april fool au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyEmpress/pseuds/HolyEmpress
Summary: Ten*Shouin chases Hibikiga to the end of the universe.





	On top of the corpse of culture

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda wanted to?? write this au??? for no good reason?

The stars belonged to Hibikiga.

His efforts were futile - there were few genius pilots in each generation, and the sky had clearly chosen its hero. The silver-haired renegade, famous across the universe, was making fun of his army, dodging every attack with grace as he moved the _CARRIER_ _PIGEON_ _01_ toward the next galaxy warp. His men wouldn’t be able to keep up with his elaborate pirouettes much longer.

He, however, was ready to catch him, even if it meant following him to the other end of the world. He makes a sharp turn – the enemy beam barely misses – and jumps straight into the white portal, gritting his teeth as his medical suit lights up and starts pumping chemicals into his blood. His body wasn’t meant for such exciting chases.

 

The next time he blinks, the surrounding haves changed, and the portal is definitly closed. He doesn’t recognizes the planets at first, until it finally hits him. Hibikiga was still running free because he lived one of the few territories that wasn’t under the Empire’s control. He’d never visited that zone before, but everybody knew of the five that refused to be incorporated. His radar shows him the route to follow.

He had an hour, at best, before his advisor would track his ship signal and drag him back to the Empire’s base, so he lets the main computer take over the piloting functions and reaches for the oxygen mask under his seat. The battle had left him drained. He could tell his claws had gotten just a longer too, threatening to poke hole in his containment gloves. How unsightly.

There was a chance he’d have to go all-out if Hibikiga’s reputation of never missing at close range proved to be true.

 

The ship lands on top of a mountain of trash.

Records about this place were hidden from the public ; but as an Emperor, he knew even . The ambitious plan born of the mind of Earth’s decadent leaders, after the human race had grown too large for its own home, was never mentionned in history books, but he knew every detail of that shameful secret. They’d conquered the faraway skies to hide the consequences of their endless greed. Seeing it in person only made him want to throw up. The first planet ever stolen by mankind was a garbage dump.

A monument to chaos, made of decomposing antiques and outdated plastic toys.

 

He runs a quick scan to make sure the air is breathable as he prepares to venture outside. It comes back surprisingly green, even indicating presence of vegetation, so he loads his gun, checks the levels of his medical suit, and takes a first step outside.

His boot crushes a rose.

 

\- Just in time for tea ! As expected from the Emperor. Please, take a seat ! Welcome ! To wonderland ✰ !

 

The legendary pilot is standing in front of him, arms wide open inviting him to an absurd tea party, and he doesn’t waste time to takes a first shot at him. The beam dissipates before hitting its target, deflected by an invisible spell. He pulls the trigger a second time and Hibikiga dodges with a mockful pirouette. The next three bullets simply turns into rose petals before gently falling down.

It’s pointless. He could try activating the ship’s defenses, but this planet was the playing field of his silver-haired opponent ; for all he knew, the entire grounds were under enemy surveillance, protected by state-of-the-art technology.

They’d reached an annoying standstill.

 

\- Are you playing spot-the-sniper, your Majesty ? The pilot asks, visibly amused. I promise the only serious threat is right in front of you !

 

He sighs.

 

There were a several beautiful cakes on the table Hibikiga had set up for them ; his choice of furniture was delightfully old-fashioned, reminiscent of lost traditions from millenium ago, something he only recognized from his knowledge of pre-space era paintings, treasures the eccentric had certainly dug up from his catastrophe of a home. How he’d achieved this in such a short amount of time remained a complete mystery, but it didn’t made the idea any less charming.

The pilot sits down and starts pouring tea into porcelain cups, waiting for him to join in.

 

He hesitates, tempted by a much boring scenario, feeling his other self – the mutation – beg for blood. Heavy weaponry or not, magic or not, nothing could stand in the way of his claws. He could make a mess of him and let the Empire celebrate the death of a detestable phantom thief. Just a year would be needed to clean up his planet. Children would play and run through the ghost of these ugly mountains, painting a new history on top of this ugly canvas. If he killed him, no, when he’d kill him, the story would reach its end.

So he could indulge in this nonsensical celebration.

 

Because he’d spent the better part of his childhood stuck to a chair as needles pierced his skin, eyes focused on the TV screen in a vain attempt to tune out the pain – and today, he was free, meeting up with his hero back then, the orphan who participated in races hoping to earn his keep. The child who had registered into these ruthless competitions with this silly, stupid name, a flower born from despicable dust.

He couldn’t tell him just how jealous he was, but they could share this interlude, and let the wind cover any awkward silence.

They could pretend to have more than a war in common.

 

\- Very well. I will hear your demands, Hibiki-san. Consider me your hostage for the next hour.

 

*.*.*

 

\- Your group is hoarding ressources that would greatly benefit the rest of the universe, he tries, attempting to get through to him.

\- Is the Emperor here, on his own, to fight over the corpse of culture ? Exquisite ! I can see the headlines already ! « Hibikiga keeping all the antiques : says its good breakfast for his specie » ?

 

The pilot laughs.

They’d been at if for the last thirty minutes, bickering over useless, boring details. Thankfully, his enemy was very charming, and spoke in a way that only added to the mystery, but that alone wasn’t enough to justify this tea party.

He’d abandonned his own army to chase this madman.

 

\- I wish it was a matter as trivial as materials, he lets out, unable to hide his frustration.

\- I wish my friend’s robots were still functional, but the stars have been very busy granting your desires recently, I don’t think they’ll listen to me anymore.

 

He bites his lips.

He’d expected the renegade pilot to be as agressive and bitter as the dollmaker, but getting Hibikiga to express the same kind animosity was surprisingly difficult - there was something peaceful about him, a quiet resignation in the way he answered his taunts with beautiful allegories, as if he was indulging a particularly demanding child, displaying one trick after the other to keep him entertained.

Like a masked performer, refusing to expose his true self to an unworthy audience.

 

\- And yet the quest for Love and Surprises simply cannot be halted ! He resumes. We must fight ! We must kill, until we reach a satisfying conclusion ! Sound trumpets and let our bloody colours wave !

 

His delivery is flawless, but he can’t help but wonder where he’d stolen that tirade, he, who knew everything there was to know about the _corpse of culture_ they stood on.

It made him feel so stupid and small, because his own world, at times, was nothing bigger than an hospital room.

Hibikiga couldn’t understand.

 

\- The audience isn’t ready to decide yet… Let’s have a tea party again once this is all over, your Majesty. Once you’ve chained them down with artificial happiness.

 

 _There is no real happiness,_ is w hat he wants to say, but the lonely words do n’t cross his lips, as if his heart and his brain had failed to agree with one other. The pilot was offering him a bright smile, but his eyes couldn’t fully hide his true feelings. Sorrow and pity. _Disgusting compassion._

 

\- So that’s your opinion of me, he says.

 

Without hesitation, he takes his gloves off to reveal his hands.

The claws had started develloping from his nails after his sixth birthday, but nowadays, they took up the first two phalanx of each fingers, progressing a bit more each year, unstoppable threats to his lifeforce. The doctors predicted that his teeth would eventually undergo the same metamorphosis and turn into fangs, if his body held on until then. Unlike Hibikiga, he would never be anything beautiful.

He grabs the porcelain teacup and crushes it. For a few seconds, it feels amazing, because the beast is satiated ; but it quickly decides to ask for more, and the pain rises within his chest. He smiles, used to his other self’s unhealthy appetite.

 

\- You are right. I am a dream-devouring beast.

 

They should have all been grateful to him. He had put order into a chaotic universe, waving his conductor’s baton so that conflicting nations would unite, so that everyone within his Empire would have a role to fulfill – and without a doubt, the environnement he’d created was sterile, but that’s what they’d asked for, too afraid to chase joy on their own.

And people cheered for their savior, they clapped, for the monster who led the herd, for their Emperor.

For the man who stood alone on the right side of history.

 

\- This is a misunderstanding, Hibikiga softly answers. I find you wonderfully human, your Majesty.

 

The pilot takes the white shards of the broken cup in his hands and blows on them.

Miraculously, the pieces start coming to life in his palms, re-assembling into the object he’d broken moments ago. The tea he’d spilled reverts to its former state as well, flying back into the white cup. He stares in shock, unable to make sense of Hikiga’s actions.

 

The fragile object is handed back to him.

 

\- It’s a shame I can’t relate to those fascinating emotions of yours, the pilot concludes.


End file.
